


To The Moon And Back

by Fightyourdragon



Category: SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Epistolary, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 16,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5086573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A love story told in Epistolary form. James and Q loved one another, but they never talked about it. At least, not directly. Decades after Q's death, and James' disappearance, Eve's daughter published their unsent letters. </p>
<p>Excerpt: I am deeply grateful to my mother, Eve, for sharing these letters with me. When I was eighteen and utterly crushed because I thought the love of my life (he did not turn out to be the love of my life but what does one know at eighteen?) would never love me back, she showed them to me for the first time. She said she had been holding onto them for almost twenty years, and it was a relief to finally share their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi dear readers! This is a different format of story than I've written before, and I have found very few epistolary fics in this fandom in general. I thought it would be an interesting way to tell a story though, so here it is. This is canon divergent, as I am pretending Spectre takes place years after Skyfall. Also, no doubt the movie will completely shift the latter part into AU territory. I have everything written at this point aside from the last few letters as I plan to weave some of Spectre into them. I'm in the USA so that means not until early November. So I will post a chapter every few days, to give myself time to finish it. Enjoy! 
> 
> Many thanks as always to the lovely Hedwig_Dordt for her friendship and Beta reading assistance!

To The Moon And Back

Compiled and Edited by Lillian Moneypenny 

_For James and Q, wherever they are._

______________________________________________

Acknowledgements

I am deeply grateful to my mother, Eve, for sharing these letters with me. When I was eighteen and utterly crushed because I thought the love of my life (he did not turn out to be the love of my life but what does one know at eighteen?) would never love me back, she showed them to me for the first time. She said she had been holding onto them for almost twenty years, and it was a relief to finally share their story. James and Q. The epic tales she shared made them sound like characters from an improbable spy novel, and yet they existed. As I read the letters she slowly shared their story with me, or at least her perspective on it. I lay awake for weeks reading and re-reading the letters, while crying over a love story that never came to be. It was so unfair, I thought, that they were never together when they clearly loved each other so much. That they never even knew how the other felt. And yet, they loved each other, which is a beautiful thing in itself. Theirs is a story I believed should be told, and I am eternally grateful to my publisher for agreeing with me. More than that though, I am grateful to my godfather James (mom tells me he assured her he’d be shite at it but he accepted nonetheless), who agreed to let this book be published. So to James, thank you. And to Q- thank you for this story, and may you rest in peace. And to you, dear readers. Thank you for your support, and I hope that if nothing else this book inspires you to make sure the people you love know it. After all, life is too short to risk waiting. 

______________________________________________________________________

Introduction

A bit of background in order to understand the way this unconventional story is told: 

Q’s letters were written between July of 2012 and June of 2015. He wrote them, but never delivered them. They were written on various pieces of notebook paper, on the backs of receipts, on scratch paper, seemingly whatever Q had on hand when he decided to write to James. After Q’s death these letters were found by my mother, tucked away in a small nondescript wooden box in his office. The following note was written on a post-it affixed to the top. _“To Eve. I trust you to know what to do with them.”_ My mother held onto them until a few weeks after Q’s funeral before giving them to James. She said she felt bad about waiting, but James didn’t seem like he was in a safe place for a while and she wasn’t sure if the letters would make things worse for him. She’d never seen him grieve like that. Not that he showed it as far as most people were concerned, but she knew him well enough to spot the signs. She said the letters were so beautiful, and Q did give them to her first, so she couldn’t help but make herself copies before she passed them on. Somehow, I don’t think Q would begrudge her. After all, she kept them to herself for decades. 

James’ letters were written much later. The first was written exactly a year after Q’s death in June of 2015, in fact, and then he must have done little else but consider his replies because the last was written the very next day. They were written as a series of email drafts that he never sent. Months after the funeral, knowing James would never do anything like see a therapist, my mother had suggested he reply to the letters (she told him she’d read them when she gave them to him, and as a spy himself he said he understood why she did it) as a way to move on. It wasn’t until the day before James vanished on June 17th of 2016 that he even told her he’d done so. He gave her the password to his private gmail account, saying someone may as well read them, and informed her that he was retiring. And then, he was gone. No one has seen him since. My mother only knows he’s alive because of the postcard with no return address which arrives every year or so, and because of the birthday money that appears mysteriously in my bank account every year with the description, _to my goddaughter._

When I settled on the idea of having this story published, I sent an email to James’ account to ask him if I had his blessing. I’d emailed a few times since I first read the letters, but he’d never replied though I could tell he’d read them, since the emails were always opened. I explained that maybe someone could read this and realize that they really shouldn’t wait to tell that person they love how they feel. Mostly, I argued it is just a story too compelling not to be told. For whatever reason, he finally replied to me and said I’m free to do whatever I want with the letters. So even though they feel intimately private, you can be assured I have his consent to share them. Also, the men were government agents above anything and they knew better than to reveal classified information even in the form of personal letters, so rest assured there is nothing here that could pose a danger to Queen or Country. 

In order to lend some background, most letters will be precluded by a small interlude explaining the events that took place, as related to me by my mother. I asked her if she wanted to write them herself, but she declined. She said she wasn’t sure she could, even though it was so long ago it still makes her heart ache to think about everything they went through. 

This story as it is written here is not terribly long, but if you are anything like myself, it will settle somewhere into your heart and refuse to leave. 


	2. Chapter 2

The first letter was written following the events of the terrorist attack of 2012. You the public will remember it as the MI-6 building blowing up, followed by a drastic increase in security around the United Kingdom in general. I didn’t know until reading these letters that they saved our world after that, but apparently they did. My mother says when they met, she was amused by the way they would snark at each other. She says she could tell James liked Q by the way he looked at the other man when he wasn’t looking. She wasn’t sure Q knew though, since it was James’ way to keep everyone at a distance. The fact that James survived at all was owing to Q’s innovention, but as far as my mom saw they never talked about it. They simply moved forward. They kept working to save the world. Together, while thinking they were alone.

_27 November, 2012_

_James-_

_I only call you that in my head, you know. I wonder what your expression would be if I called you that out loud, rather than Bond or 007. I know better than to try, because in my head your eyes go soft and pleased, with those adorable little wrinkles at the corners. Those are more charming than they have any right to be. Maybe you even smile. But In real life... No, I’m better off like this._

_I know this is a bit strange, writing to you when I’m not sure I’ll ever show you this letter or any others, if I write any, but the truth is I’m a bit strange myself. I’m not good with words, or at least not romantic words, not out loud at least. I’m good with computers, and weapons, and protocols, but not with romantic relationships. This is easier. You’ve no idea, in a letter, how many seconds or minutes I stared at this paper wondering how to best phrase what I mean. If I sound at all eloquent, the likelihood of minutes as opposed to seconds is highly probable, in fact. Not that I’m slow, of course, or- you know, even on paper I’m messing this up, so I’m sure you can see why I haven’t tried actually talking to you about any of this. About what, you (who may never read this) ask? Excellent question. Making no sense, am I? You do that to me, James, you make me as incoherent as a school boy around his first crush._

_The truth is, I fancy you quite a bit. I didn’t expect to, really, not with the way you were described to me prior to our meeting. I was told you were cold, murderous, frightening, possibly insane. That as one particularly eloquent and clearly besotted woman in HR put it, “Life and Death are both in love with him, and they’re fighting over who gets to keep him.” I rather suspect she was right. So I was expecting to find you barely tolerable, and instead the moment I saw you it was like- nothing I can describe. I just knew I needed to be near you. That you were going to matter to me. It wasn’t your looks, I can promise you that- you looked like something the cat dragged in, truth be told, but you were still somehow compelling. I wanted terribly to stay on that bench, to get to know you, but I had to hand you your kit and leave. But I wanted to touch you so badly, to impress you, to see you again. I suspect I will be doing a distressing amount of that- leaving you, or watching you leave. It’s in the job description, in fact. Still, it makes me sad._

_I thought the stories about you had to be exaggerated, but then you went and landed yourself in a bloody komodo dragon pit (Eve filled me in, you are truly ridiculous at times). And then a woman connected with you really did end up dead, just like the whispered tales indicated would happen. I’m sorry about that, truly I am, and I wish I could’ve done something to save her. The follow-up reports show she had a rather terrible life, and she didn’t deserve a terrible death as well. Honestly, I’m not sure how you manage to smile or joke around at all considering everything you’ve seen, facing all the dark and twisted things people are capable of. And now I’m rambling. I do that. This is like a form of therapy for me, I suppose, writing to you all the things I’m thinking. I used to keep journals for years, something about the written word helps me to process things. So yes, I’m not likely to make much sense here in any sort of linear fashion._

_I wish I’d been able to make a better impression early on, but no, I had to go and cock up the entire thing. I was so desperate to impress you, especially with that whole thing about my inventing the algorithms, but all I did was fail. I’ll never forgive myself for letting Silva hack into MI6. Never. In the end, I suppose I’m responsible for M’s death since I was the one who let him escape. I’m sorry, James, truly I am. I’ll be trying to make it up to you forever. Helping you lure him to Skyfall didn’t even begin to atone, especially when it led to the destruction of your family home and her death. And now you’re hurting, I know you are, even though you already just left for a new mission. But I’m going to protect you this time. I’m going to protect everyone you have left here, I swear it. I’ll even make you that damned exploding pen if it will make you happy. I’ll do better. I know you’ll never actually be interested in me, but maybe we can be friends. That would mean everything to me, you’ve no idea._

_~~Yours, Sincerely,~~ _

~~~~_So my mom used to do this thing, every night she would say she loved me to the moon and back, and I would reply I loved her to Mars and back, or any planet really, just to prove I loved her more. It was silly, but it was- well. To the moon and back, James._

_Q_

____________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 1:07 pm.

Look Eve I”m doing this thing. This pointlesss fucking thing. NOt because it’ll do a damn thing, but becuase it’ll get you off my back. Nothing can do a damn thing fore me execpt for maybe enoubh whiskey or a bullet.Or not. I”ve tried the whiskey, over half a bottle in me now, and spellcheck hastes me but fuck it too. And the bullet isn’t working since suddenly all our enemeis have hired fucking storm troopers or something considring their aim, and fuck you Q for that mental image. Fucking Star Wars and our movie marathon and th4e warmth of you falling asllep on my shoulder. Han is cool though, I actually didn’t mind you givinv me that nickname. This is stipid, what’s the point? I was a fuciking moron, a coward, and I didn’t know, I swear I did’t. I wondred sometimes, but you were always more to me than a casual fuck and I didn’t klnow you ‘d be intresed in more. I thought I’d hate you too, at first, so thre. With your ridiculous clothes and your moppy hair and yor big words. Thoug you woudn’t last. YOu wer eso young, so fucking green. Figured I’d tolerate you at best, and you’d be gne. But you were really damn- not pretty, magnetic. Beautiful. Stupid whiskey, making me a ll soft again. I”ve read these leters so often I’ve meoorized them. I can almost read them now withourt wanting to ddestroy everything in sight, so there’s that. I dont’ know how I made it this long either. Everyone I love dies, everthing gets destroyed, the world is a shit hole. but I can’t quit. I’m conditioned to save Queen and Country, to fight for whatever I”m told to fight for, and I can’t not do that. I do what I’m programed for, just like one of the computers you loved so much. Maybe that’s why yu got me inways no one else did. and I always had someone to keep me going. I had M, and when she was gone hten I had you. Tha mission was a cluster fuck , yeah, and you fucked up, but thas what happens in thsi business. I wasn’t ever angry at you for it. I didn’t knwo you felt so guilty, you seemed so ptu together. I didn’t knwo anything it seems. NOt even when we were friends. Close friends. Closest I’ve ever had. Not even when I was so damned in love wht you it made me crazy. so almost as long as I knwe you. So jsut- fuck you and yoru pretty words and your your- and now you’re gone and I”m not, and I”ll never have you, and I’m stuck here without your- and it hurts and i don’t even have a heaven to believe in. Shit, time for another glass. This is ttotally illgegible, but fuck it, Eve. See, I did clean up the forms I turned in but htis you can fucking deal with.

James


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks in the world to my friend and tireless word and author wrangler Hedwig_Dordt for all of her hard work on this story!

My mother laughed while describing Bond’s first mission back after what came to be known as The Skyfall Incident. She said in retrospect it was hilarious, the way the man made it home via a tiny and ancient stolen plane (If you ever wonder where your tax dollars are going…), a borrowed motorcycle, and a variety of pack animals. She said despite how anxious Q was, she couldn’t help but smile at the image of the infamously smooth 007 sitting astride a mule in a hopelessly tattered bespoke suit. She chalked it up to Q’s displeasure at another mission gone awry, he hid his true feelings so well. She said she didn’t know him well enough yet to discern the genuine concern behind his implacably collected and proper facade. After all, they’d only known each other such a brief time, how was she to know? 

_December 31st 2012_

_That was supposed to be a fluff mission, you complete ass. Something to ease you back into field work. Only you could fuck up something so completely basic as a simple bait and switch. I do swear you know, quite well and quite profusely in my mind. Constantly. More than usual since I met you, really. I do try to remain professional at work but the effort is Herculean, I’ll have you know. And Nepal? Who gets himself stranded in the mountains of Nepal?! You, that’s who, you improbable bastard. You’re damn lucky you know how to fly, though you don’t appear to know how to land. You scared the shit out of me. You have no idea how hard it was, when you finally got back, to give you an unimpressed stare and ask after my ruined equipment. I wanted to run and gather you close for a hug, to feel you were alive and well and safe. To push you against my desk and kiss you. You make me feel like I’m going out of my skin, James, wishing things were different. Wishing it weren’t so horribly inappropriate, the way I feel about you. Wishing you felt the same way. But you don’t. If you did, you would tell protocol to fuck off as you do when it comes to basically else anything you feel like doing. I’ve no idea how your M put up with you. She must’ve been half in love with you as well, is all I can figure. Not that I can blame her. Saucy minx, God rest her soul. But you’re alive, that’s what matters. I can still come up with excuses to see you. Can still savour the nearly pleasurable pain of wanting, of being so close and not having. I’ve never both loved and hated my masochistic streak more. Happy New Year’s, James. I suppose I ought to be off getting drunk and kissing strangers as you are likely doing, but somehow I don’t have it in me. I’ll just have a glass of wine here on my balcony, and watch the city lights, and know you’re out there somewhere not thinking of me. Or maybe a shot of something stronger, because that was pathetically melancholy._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_____________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 1:33 p.m. 

You lknwo what, if you wanted a fluff mission you could’ve sent me to fucking Florida sor something. NOthing is ever a fluff mission if its on the 00 radar oyu beautiful , naive man. Gods, but oyu were new. And I was so old...amd so old. IF I’d been a young ageint, I would’ve pushed you agaionst that destk you are taling about, and done far more than kiss you if youd wanted it. But I didnt’, becuase I thought I was smarter than that. Didn’t want to fuck upa good thing. YOu were good at oyur job, and I wanted to keep workign with you. I thought I knew better tahn to get involved with anyone, especially at worlk. I was really fucking stupid, Q. I should've deone it. shouldve been braver. I’m sorry. Not taht teling you this helps now. And I wasn’t out kissing strangers, I was home in my new oand empty flat dringing whiskey. I wasn’t obesssing over you or anythign but I did wonder what you were up to. I shold’ve come find you. who knows if it would have worked evne if I had. I rprobably would’ve found some way to fuck it up ifI I trired to be with oyu. Probably. Maybe not. It fucing hurts that I’ll never know. Shit, I ca’t even read this. I’ll come back to it after I’ve had a nap. I din’t think it would be this hard jsut to write you. I want you to be here. I miss you like helll. 

James


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to beta extraordinaire Hedwig_Dordt for all of her help editing!

My mother tells me Q’s next letter came just after one of his soon-to-become famous dressing downs of 007. Apparently, before long any agents at home made it a point to be conveniently needing something in Q branch whenever 007 returned, as it was guaranteed to be a popcorn-worthy event. It seemed that 007 had some special ability to piss off the Quartermaster, and some sort of death wish as he continued to do it. He seemed to take some sort of devilish pleasure in it, in fact. My mother suspected the others secretly the others envied his courage. 

_January 28th, 2013_

_You break my things on purpose, don’t you? This is why you don’t deserve new things, you little shit. I go to the trouble of making you a lovely set of exploding pens as a late Christmas gift (shut up, yes, this is blatant favoritism but I will never admit it) and you repay me by destroying my prototype drone? You’ve no idea how badly I want to punch that smirking face of yours sometimes, you with that innocent look of ‘it was an accident, Q, no one expects a fluke typhoon.’ You know what, YOU’RE A WALKING FLUKE TYPHOON! And no that makes no sense, and no I don’t care. You’re lucky you’re hot, I’ll tell you that much. And those damn puppy dog eyes- I mean, I thought I was pretty good at them but yours are downright devastating. I hate that I can’t even hate you, can’t even stay mad at you for longer than a few minutes. Thousands of pounds lost and I can’t even stay mad. But I need to at least look mad, to be cold and scolding, and so now you probably think I do hate you. The irony is painful._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 7:33 p.m. 

I still think this is pointless, Eve, Q, whoever, but at least I’m sober enough to bother with spell check. I miss your cooking, Q, as terrible as it was. All I have in the flat are crisps, and even ordering delivery sounds like too much effort. I miss you yelling at me. I don’t think you’d sorted out the fact that I thought you were hot as hell when you were angry, at this point. Your eyes would flash, and your cheeks would flush, and you would ball your hands up into fists and look as menacing as possible, and you were so, so damn- I’d never have dared to call you beautiful to your face, but you were beautiful, Q. And so alive, so passionate. So the exact opposite of me. Even though I didn’t show it, I felt old and worn out. No good for anything but the mission. I didn’t think you hated me, but I didn’t know how you really felt, I swear I didn’t. The shit part is, if I did know I probably would have fucked it up. You didn’t know me, Q, not then, not like you did later. You thought I was good at heart, noble or something. I’m not good, Q. Maybe I never was. Not good enough for you, that’s for damn sure. But I wanted. Fuck, but I wanted. 

I loved the exploding pens. I didn’t think you would actually go to the trouble of making one, let alone several, for me. I know there’s no way you assigned your minions to making them, so that means you took time to make something just for me. You were thinking about me. For some crazy reason you wanted to make me happy. I wanted it to mean you cared about me, wanted to make me happy for your own personal reasons, but I couldn’t convince myself. I thought maybe it was just to keep me content, to keep me doing what I do best, to keep me from quitting. Maybe you were just showing me what you could do for me, to keep me interested. Well, it you did that. too well, really. I already wanted...something. To be near you, to make you proud of me, to see you smile. But you were so compelling when you were angry, and then I had all of your attention. I know, I behaved exactly like the five year old you accused me of being that time I destroyed your new micro-bots. That one was a genuine unavoidable situation, by the way. Fuck, I can almost pretend you’re actually listening. Almost. 

James


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful to my friend and editor Hedwig_Dordt for all of her support, and editing, and general author-wrangling!

_February 18th, 2013_

_You’ve no idea how I struggle to keep my composure when you’re looking at me, looking right into my eyes, and asking me what I’m working on. Touching my things. Your fingers poking at my keyboard as you grin and try to mess up what I’m typing so I’ll pay more attention to you. The way you smell- I want so badly to lean over and kiss you. No, that’s not entirely it. I want you to kiss me. To want me like I want you. I’ve imagined so many ways it could happen. In my office after hours, on the shooting range after testing new weapons, against Mallory’s ridiculous leather padded door. But you don’t want it, and that has me clenching my fists and planting my feet firmly on the ugly industrial carpet of my office so I don’t do anything stupid like ask if you’d like to run away with me. I know, I barely know you. But I listen to you on missions constantly, and I’ve read all of your mission briefings, and you really do spend a significant amount of time down here inadvertently torturing me between missions. You’ve even taken to telling me things, just little comments about your life, how you’re feeling after missions, that you envy my ability to keep pets. I never pictured you for a cat person, but it actually makes a lot of sense. You both lack a concept of personal space, and demand to have the thing when you want when you want it, but are still somehow adorable. I feel like I know you. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. But you...I never see more than a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, and I’ve seen you look at plenty of people like that. It doesn’t mean what I want it to mean._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 7:33 p.m. 

I have a damn good idea what that feels like Q. For longer than you did, really, because now I look back on all of those times when I thought, “I could kiss him,” and know I should have. I know I fucked everything up. That I was too much of a coward to try. That you would’ve let me. Do you think I spent that much time in Q branch when Boothroyd was in charge? Hell no, I got my equipment and got out of there. But you...it was like I couldn’t keep away. I made up excuses, reasons I tried to convince myself were valid. I needed to check out the equipment for my next mission, test the new tools, make sure my kit was in order. All bullshit. It was you, Q. I liked you right away, even before I- fuck it, even before I loved you. You know what, fuck you Eve, this is only making me feel more like driving my Aston Martin into a terrorist base and hitting the wall accelerating. I need a break. 

It didn’t help. I feel trapped in my own skin. I need things I can never have, not now. I went for a run around London, and it was so calm. So...normal. I’ve become accustomed to the fact that life goes on even when people I care about do not. That no one even cares, no one understands what I- well. I don’t think the world needs me anymore. I don’t think anyone needs me anymore. Q didn’t even need me, not really. I’ve no idea why he- you- I’m not even sure who I’m writing- ever wanted me. But I promised I’d do this. Okay, next letter. 

James


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to Hedwig_Dordt for all of her editing work! Feel free to tell her she's awesome too, I'd never finish anything if she wasn't around to poke me and offer support!

The following letter was written the night of my mother’s birthday party. She’d insisted Q come, since she could tell something was making him sad lately. She hoped to hook him up with one of her friends, which she felt bad about after reading what Q had to say about it. At this point, she had no idea about Q’s affection for James. Even less about how James felt about Q. They were both too stubborn for their own good, she said, and too good at deception. 

_June 11th, 2013_

_I told myself I was done writing to you, but apparently I’m so good at lying I even lie to myself. I’ve had waaaaay too much to drink to be writing you- it’s Eve’s fault, and her stupid party. She tried to set me up, did you know that? Course not, and you wouldn’t care. You hook up, I know you do. I wish I could be more like you, but I’m not. He was even cute. And nice. Too nice. Sweet, even. I don’t want sweet. Shit, I shouldn’t be telling you this. But you’ll probably never read it, so I guess fuck it. You’ll never know how much I love you. And I do. I’ve known you barely a year, but it doesn’t matter. I do. You’re just so...alive. And sexy in this weird way, even though your ears are too big and nothing about you should work on me but everything does. I miss you when you’re gone. I miss you when you’re home, too. Almost more. At least while you’re out in the field I have an excuse to talk to you. Or I can make one, which I often do. I like talking to you, even though it’s mostly just you complaining about how bored you are and asking me for newer and more interesting tech. You’re a spoiled brat, you know. But I like hearing about your day. I like you saying you’re so bored you even want to hear about mine. I like the teasing, friendly tone in your voice. I can almost pretend it means what I wish it means. But when you’re home...I want to know if you’re lonely. If you have someone. I wonder what would happen if I came over and knocked on your door. If you would kiss me. If you’d touch me the way I touch myself when I think of you doing it. Not that I would do that, but I want. I want so much, James. Fuck, I really need to put down this pen and find some water._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 9:57 p.m. 

I have every one of these letters damn near memorized, but this one is the worst. This one shows me just how bad I fucked up. Also, fuck you for how well you write even when you’re drunk, and on paper no less. Wrote. Shit. I’m not sure I can do this. Writing these emails makes it seem so final. Like you’re really gone. I don’t want you to be gone. I want you to be on a beach somewhere drinking too much tequila and just- I want you to be alive, Q. I want, and I want, and nothing will ever fix this. I did keep you on the line longer than I needed to, because I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to tell you about my day, to hear about yours. I wanted you to want me. 

I knew you dated sometimes, and even though I knew it was unfair I still hated it. I hated thinking about you with someone else. I wanted you to be happy, of course I did, but I was still jealous. I wanted you with someone worthy of you, and I wanted you for myself even though I knew I was all wrong for you. I spent so many of my mindless hours imagining what you tasted like, how you would sound on top of me, below me. Any way you wanted. Anything you wanted, always. Of course I was lonely. I am lonely. But I’ve felt that way for most of my life, so I could go years without actually noticing the sensation. It was just there, part of me. I had almost learned to ignore it completely again, but then there was you, and it was impossible not to notice how much I wanted to be around you when I wasn’t. How something felt settled in me when you were nearby. I wish you had come and knocked on my door. I wish you’d been braver than I was. I wish, Q, and it’s hell. 

James


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love and appreciation for Hedwig_Dordt and all of her help with content and editing!

My mother told me that the only reason she remembered anything significant around the time of this letter was that the inter-departmental gossip involved Q shattering his beloved Q scrabble mug in what appeared to be somewhat less than an accidental trip off of the edge of his desk. Everyone was waiting to be fired, because surely a mistake so dire as to merit that type of reaction meant someone was headed out the door. Possibly in a body bag. People were on eggshells for days, but nothing ever came of it aside from Q receiving a parcel reportedly containing dozens of the mugs and stowing it away somewhere secret. No one dared mention it. 

 

_July 8th 2013_

_I even embarrassed myself with that last letter. Thank all the goddesses I didn’t do something stupid like call you, or text you. I could, of course, I supply your mobiles after all. I don’t dare though. I’m too afraid of what you would reply, and besides, what would I say? Hi, it’s me, Q, I seem to be in love with you, how do you feel about that? Yes I see you’re busy fucking a mark, I’ll just check in later shall I? It’s...indescribable, really, knowing you’re fucking someone who isn’t me. Painful. Especially a man who’s not me. Fuck, James, I know it’s the job and you sleep around far less than your reputation would indicate, and it’s sheer masochism that had me listening in for a few seconds longer than I strictly needed to. I’m sorry about that, truly I am, it was wrong and I promise not to do it again unless the job requires it. You just sounded so...uninhibited. So...happy is too extreme a term, but you were enjoying whatever it was you were doing. That much, at least, wasn’t a lie. I almost wish it had been. Because even though I knew it was true on paper now I know it is true from irrefutable proof. You like men, you like kissing men, having sex with men. Just men who aren’t me. So that’s...that. I just wish...well, and so do most people, I suppose. I’m not sure why I thought I’d be different. I should really burn this._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 10:22 p.m. 

You know what, Q, this letter is bullshit. I was just doing my damn job. I’m not going to apologize for enjoying sex, not with anyone. I don’t fall in love as easily as you, so no, I wasn’t fucking in love with you yet. But maybe I could’ve been. If you just would’ve fucking told me, I know I could’ve- fuck, I don’t know. It’s pointless to think about all the could haves. Everything is pointless, now. All I can do is keep going, keep being the perfect killing machine, keep saving a world I don’t give a shit about. Because you asked me to. I love you, but sometimes I hate you too.

James


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to my wonderful friend and editor, Hedwig_Dordt, for all of her help with this story!

My mother explained that M, the head of MI6, did not get involved with the practicalities of the outfits of the 00 agents, nor of the destruction they caused, unless they had to testify to a budget committee hearing. As a rule, 00 agents reported only to M, and then only about two things: their mission brief and their results. Destruction of their kit in the process of obtaining results were mostly outside of M’s sphere of interest. However, as an avid car collector he took the time Bond managed to destroy a newly outfitted Aston Martin as a personal affront. She says it was one of the only times she could actually hear the yelling through the insulated door to his office. Not that it did any good, she says she got the usual nod and wink as the agent left, looking thoroughly unruffled. 

_July 27th 2013_

_You little shit, I liked that car._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_______________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 10:43 p.m. 

I liked that car too! How is it my fault your minions were shit at their jobs so my intel was awful, and I needed to use the car to take out the target’s house so I could get out of there?? Serves you right for taking off for that ridiculous convention M sent you to. Even after so much time you were still gorgeous to me when you were angry. It was almost worth the car. Hell, it was definitely worth it. 

James


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks, as usual, to the best beta reader and friend ever, Hedwig_Dortd, for making sure this stays on track!

_August 10th 2013_

_I liked that pocket-sized 3-D printer too, you absolute menace. You’re only doing this to see me rant about the budget again, aren’t you? So you can watch me with that maddening little smirk and those innocent eyes, fooling exactly no one. And the worst part is, I can’t help daydreaming that you do it on purpose just for an excuse to come see me. Unless the worst part is I know I’ll hope it’s true the next time as well. And the time after that._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

______________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 11:12 p.m. 

Fucking hell Q, you should've told me. You were supposed to be the smart one, not me. You were the brave one, not me. You proved that in the end. Of course I did it on purpose. Constantly. Hundreds of times. You should’ve fucking told me. 

You know what, this is stupid. It’s depressing. Nothing about my time with you was depressing, Q. When we were together I smiled, I laughed, I was happy. You made me remember what it was to have fun. You let me stage that paintball event in the tunnels below the building, and pretended not to notice when I commandeered that prototype drone and used it to drop fake snow on 004 while she was in the desert. You let me help test your new weapons, since you knew I loved blowing things up. You played chess with me and sometimes you even let me win- you were fooling no one, I’ll have you know. You loaded old Mr. Bean episodes onto my laptop when I was stuck on long missions. You were my happy place, and I remember that as much as I remember the ache of wanting things I didn’t think I could have. And I know I like to put it on you, but the truth is I could’ve been the one to make the first move too. And I didn’t. 

James


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to my incredible editor and friend Hedwig_Dordt for all of her help with this story!

My mother couldn’t give me specifics, but she said this next letter was written after Bond had been missing for about a month. Which wasn’t terribly unusual for him, strictly speaking, but this time it was clear he hadn’t gone on an unauthorized vacation. She told me they received a small vial of fresh blood every week, to prove it. Q was absolutely beside himself like she’d never seen him. He was barely sleeping, she had his Q branch minions on a feeding schedule to make sure he ate, and he rarely went home, instead taking to sleeping on the sofa in his office. It was the first time she began to suspect Q felt a more than a simple affection for Bond, but she didn’t think it was a good time to bring it up. Especially since she was almost certain Bond- if he even was interested- would just end up wanting a fling. She knew Q deserved more than that. 

_October 20th, 2013_

_I’ve forgotten what being well slept feels like. I’ve even transitioned over to coffee, though I rather despise the taste unless it’s masked in four sugar packets at least. Well, I need the energy. Eve is trying to mother me by not so stealthily having sandwiches appear on my desk, so I’m fine. I don’t even have the energy to tell her I can take care of myself. She knows better. My entire staff is terrified of me, and likely conspiring to strap me to a bed in medical. But I can’t- I can’t sleep without knowing if you’re okay. Knowing, in fact, that you’re not. I promised myself that this wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let anyone else take you, not ever, and I failed. I’ll find you. I’ll find you and destroy this new organization and everyone connected to it. Well, I’m already working on that. You don’t need to be a 00 to be lethal, sometimes an internet connection is more than enough. They’re running scared, James, but I still can’t find you. But I will. I will._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_____________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 11:56 p.m. 

I’ve forgotten what being well slept feels like too. Again. You’d think after all this time I’d be used to it. I think I’ve gone a year since I’ve slept through the night. I dream of you. Of you here. Of you dying and me not being around to save you. Of your voice, your smile, your warmth the few times you fell asleep against my shoulder. I knew you would find me. I never even questioned it. M, I questioned. She loved me, but she would sacrifice me. You wouldn’t. I knew it. When I was taken, when you were looking for me, it was the first time I realized I was in love with you. And that I could never, ever tell you. Not when it could put you at the same risk. Still, it felt good. It hurt like hell, but it was good. 

James


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to the ever patient and encouraging Hedwig_Dordt for all of her beta work on this fic!

My mother told me she wasn’t sure what surprised her more, that once James was released from his initial exam in medical Q volunteered to take him home, or that James agreed without complaint. M agreed at once, as they were both run down to the point of it being dangerous and needed a few weeks to recover. She figured there was no point in talking to Q about what was going on between Bond and himself, because whatever it was it would work itself out in that much time. Probably. In retrospect, she should have realized they were both brave in every way but the one way that really mattered. It’s one thing to face being kidnapped or run a mission, and another entirely to be emotionally vulnerable. And she didn’t realize how very, very afraid they were of losing what they had. She figured she would have time later to talk to Q about it, or Bond if it came to that though she doubted she’d get anything out of him. I still remember the way her eyes teared up when she told me it was her greatest regret in life, that she decided not to interfere. 

_November 14th, 2013_

_Day three, and I already find myself needing to write to you since I can’t bring myself to say any of this out loud. You’re so beautiful when you sleep. It’s a cliche I know, and terribly uninventive of me, but it’s true. I suspect watching you sleep is how I’ll occupy much of my time while we’re here on leave. I’m tired, but you...there’s a Spanish phrase, ‘hecha polvo,’ meaning ‘exhausted’ that literally translates to ‘to be made dust.’ It’s fitting for you at the moment. I’m so glad you agreed to come home with me. I know you’d just escape Medical in a few days, and you need someone to take care of you even though you’re a stubborn ass who pretends not to need it. Eve is worried, she suspects how I feel about you, I know she does, but she’s not pressing the issue yet. I hope she doesn’t. I don’t need her pity, or the stress of knowing she’s trying to play matchmaker. She doesn’t know you like I do, doesn’t know how it would ruin things if I pushed for more than what we have. You would close up, feel like you were leading me on if we were close like this when I’m in love with you and you’re not in love with me, and pull away. I can’t have that, James. This, the fact that you trust me enough to share my flat, to let me see you when you’re not strong and ready to take on the world, it means everything to me._

_I’m sorry it took so long to find you, sorry you had to endure what no one should have to, yet again. I wish I could somehow just...fix you. No, not even that, I know some things can’t be fixed, maybe not even fully healed, but I want to be the one who makes you feel as safe as possible. To lie in bed and hold you if you need it, or find things for you to destroy if you need that. I want to matter to you. I don’t expect you to get over anything, I know better than that. But if you can even feel ‘home’ anymore, I want to be home to you. Maybe this is as close as it can get. I suppose it probably is._

_We’ve never spent this much time together, but it feels oddly comfortable. We’ve barely talked, and it doesn’t feel like we need to. I haven’t felt this at peace in ages. I have another eleven days at least of sitting with you on the sofa ordering take out, watching ridiculous spy films and picking them apart, games of chess and reading while wrapped in blankets on opposite ends of the sofa, only the soft ticking of the clock in the background. It’s very nearly perfect. Sure I catch myself daydreaming about shifting over to lean my head against your shoulder, of brushing a kiss across your lips as I get up to fix us more tea, of being able to touch you aside from dressing your wounds. It’s not even that I want to have sex with you, though I do rather desperately, not really, I just wish...I wish I was yours. I wish you were mine. I really, really need to stop. Stop writing to you, stop aching for something else when what I have is more than I ever expected. Yes, this needs to end. I still doubt you will ever see this letter, though I do keep them all. I’m nostalgic like that, I suppose. So. I love you, my friend, and it’s enough. It has to be._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_______________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 16 2016, 12:47 a.m. 

Okay I lied, this letter is the hardest to read. Of course I agreed to come home with you. I can’t believe you didn’t understand you were already home to me. That sounds so sentimental I doubt you would’ve fucking believed me if I’d said it. Or maybe you would’ve. You were the only one who saw me for more than the cold, emotionless killer. The agent. The machine. You were the only one I trusted to see more. To see that I was still capable of feeling pain, of feeling loss, of caring about the people I couldn’t save. I don’t think I would’ve come back from that without you. It wasn’t even that I was physically hurt, I’d been through worse. It was just...so fucking tired. Depressed. If you hadn’t been there, I would’ve given up. Drank myself to death, committed suicide by not giving a shit on my next mission, something. The world is fucked, Q. I’ve seen so much. Too much. You’re right, there’s no fixing me. But there was you, and you were the one good thing left, the one thing worth fighting for, worth keeping the world from going to total hell for. I couldn’t understand why you wanted me around, it’s not as if I was any sort of good company for the most part, but I wasn’t stupid enough to question it. I wanted to be there. I wanted to stay there, truth be told. But I didn’t push, didn’t dare ask for more when you were already giving me so much. We were both afraid to say what we really wanted, but I wasn’t sure- I should’ve been. Looking back, I should’ve been. I’m not completely stupid. I knew you were attracted to me, knew you wanted something, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we had as well. Maybe I would’ve. Maybe it would’ve been a bad idea at the time, in the place I was in. Maybe we would’ve lost everything we’d built. But later...so many years, Q. So many opportunities. And now I’ll never know. Those days with you, just existing in the same space...I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life by the time I left, you know. But it was different. It wasn’t like anything I’d experienced. It was just part of me. I was a 00, I had blue eyes, I was good at killing, I loved you. But I didn’t want to lose what we had. I was a coward. I’m sorry, Q. I’m so fucking sorry. 

James


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to my friend and editor Hedwig_Dordt for all of her hard work on this fic! Also, Psssst, it's her birthday tomorrow so go wish her lots of happiness over on tumblr!!

My mother was surprised at the gap in the letters. Once she started reading them, she assumed they would just continue their frequency, especially given the way she’d watched the unexpected friendship grow. For a while she wondered if they would end up running off into the sunset together, especially given the singular expressions on their faces when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Nothing ever came of it, so eventually she assumed Q had just given up on the romantic feelings she suspected him of. He even dated off and on, though nothing ever seemed to last more than a few dinners out. And Bond continued to be Bond, forming no attachments aside from the one he forged with Q. Together, they were holy terrors when they wanted to be. She said Q’s staff was possessed of equal parts respect and fear when it came to Q, since 007 was clearly...something to him, and no one wanted that kind of potential for retribution. All in all, she said, it was a good year. Quiet. She should have known something was coming. 

_September 28th, 2014_

_Hi again, James. On paper at least. In reality, we speak almost every day now, but not like this. I didn’t realize it had been nearly an entire year since I’d written until I checked the date on my last letter. There’s nothing particularly special about today really. We were in the shooting range and you reached over and squeezed my shoulder when I was out of bullets, congratulating me on how much I’ve improved, and it was okay. It was enough. We’re friends now, I’d even say best friends if it didn’t sound so very primary school. I think it would make more sense to most of the staff and agents if we were actually fucking, that I think people could comprehend- but our closeness confuses more often than not. Or terrifies. Both reactions are equally amusing, honestly. But today was...settling. You smiled at me, and I didn’t have to dig my nails into my palms for wanting more. I still love you, of course I do, but it’s not like it was. Not a desperate aching desire. Because I know you love me too, in your own way, though I know you would never say as much, not ever. So we have this, and it’s okay. I’m okay, now._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_____________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 16 2016, 10:05 a.m. 

Apparently I fell asleep. Even sleeping, there’s no escape. If I’m not thinking about you while I’m awake, I’m dreaming about you. This was one of the good ones, we were on the shooting range and you were showing off one of your new guns. Nothing special. You were just with me, and smiling, and alive. The good ones hurt just as much as the ones where I can’t save you. I can’t talk, or I can’t move, and I know you’re dying, and I can’t- I should’ve been there, Q. I should’ve protected you. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, damn it, you were just gone. I hate myself every day for plenty of things, but most of all for that. And yes, it was a good year. A fucking amazing year. It had been so long since I’d had a real friend, I’d forgotten how lonely I was. But I started to care again, whether I lived or died. I wanted to come back, to see you, to make you proud of me. Maybe that’s why it happened. Maybe my guard was down. Maybe I was too busy wanting to stay alive to pay attention to what was going on. Spectre. I should’ve seen it, Q. I should’ve- well. Many things. I should’ve told you I loved you, but I’m glad you knew. 

James 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild Spectre spoiler alert warning: This is pretty vague, but it does allude to events in the movie. Mainly things you could gather from watching a trailer, but if you are avoiding all spoilers feel free to stop reading until you have watched the movie!   
> I am adding in the Spectre content to make it fit this universe now, so letters 17 and 18 will be all Spectre content, just for a heads up. I'm putting up 2 chapters today since I just wrote this one to fit in with the movie timeline according to dates. After this the dates are canon divergent, as in this universe months take place between the events of this letter and the main Spectre events, even though the movie spans only in a few weeks of time.

_November 2nd, 2014_

_Seriously James, I thought we were past the point of keeping secrets from one another. Well, aside from the obvious elephant in the room. But no, you have to sneak off and blow things up in Mexico. And was that dive bombing helicopter situation really necessary? Sometimes I think you do these things just to test my blood pressure. None of the other agents cause this sort of ruckus! Now M wants 009 to have the new Aston Martin I’m working on, and they’ll probably attempt firing you yet again- one would think governments could be taught- and it’s a right pain in my ass, really, dealing with all of it. That’s not why I’m pissed at you this time though. I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me what you were up to. That you still haven’t. I thought you trusted me. If you’re doing this ‘for my own good’ again, I’ll throttle you. Looks like it’s time to upgrade your tracking chip. Again. Just- why didn’t you tell me?_

_To the moon and back, you little shit._

_Q_

___________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 16 2016, 10:35 a.m. 

Yeah, telling you I was doing it to protect you did not go over well. That was a pretty intimidating fit you threw, truth be told. Of course you were expecting that particular defense, but it was the truth. Not that that made it hurt any less. I didn’t want to get you involved yet, or at all if I could avoid it, at least not until I had more information. I’d just found the recording M left for me after her death a short while before, and it seemed...well, it seemed private. She gave it to me alone. You were so new, she probably didn’t know if you could be trusted, and the same went for Mallory. I should’ve told you, I know that, but I can be a stubborn ass as you well know. It’s not as if you didn't end up right in the thick of it in the end, as if keeping things from you protected you from- fuck. Fuck the world, Q, and the fact that it always needs saving. The fact that it doesn’t give a shit who I lose, as long as it keeps spinning. I think I need another drink. 

James


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thanks, and happy birthday, to my amazing friend and beta reader Hedwig_Dordt, for all of her work on this fic!

My mother says she recalls Q coming back and acting a bit off after this trip out into the field, but she attributed it to his continued dislike of flying and irritation at being stuck in the middle of the frozen nowhere over New Year’s. She noted Bond did seem to be almost avoiding the Quartermaster for the few days he was back before he left for his next mission, but she attributed it to the same reasons. She just figured Q had been more snappish than usual, and he was giving the man a chance to calm down. Or, that Q was still giving Bond the cold shoulder about the Mexico situation that never officially happened. Given what was coming, she wishes she’d been paying closer attention. 

_December 31st 2014_

_You’d think after all the times I’ve been in the field with you I’d be prepared for anything, but apparently not. Explosions and assassination attempts and fearing for my life I can deal with, but this...you’re a real asshole some days, James. I mean, more so than usual. And I can’t even let you see how mad I am, or you’ll suspect the real reason that posing as your latest fling was so fucking unbearable. You could at least have warned me! Somehow. Probably. You’re the super spy, damn it. I get it was a spur of the moment thing and you did it to throw suspicion off of us, but damn it James, just when I thought I was over wanting you. I’m not sure what was worse, that I knew it was an act or part of me still hoped maybe it wasn’t. Not completely. But it was, I know it was. I’ve seen that act a hundred times before, but somehow being on the receiving end was still- just- oh, just fuck you and your fucking charming laugh and your teasing eyes and that seductive little curve at the corner of your mouth. Fuck your perfect dancing and your hand at the small of my back, and the confetti, and music and champagne, and fucking kisses at midnight. And fuck you especially for making it feel so real. I mean, I get you needed everyone else to believe it, but did you have to make me believe it too? And when it was over you just sent me off to my room with a pat on the back and a “good show,Q, we’ll make an agent of you yet.” Good show? You don’t know the half of it, darling. Now I’m lying here in this ridiculously large hotel bed, and I want again. I want to do something reckless like go knock on your door wearing only a bathrobe. I can’t stop my mind from spinning out all the fantasies that would never really happen. You let me in and kiss me hard, like you’ve been starving for it, press me against the door, lift me so my legs wrap around your waist. Then you still in your tux, me naked, your fingers digging into my skin. You let me strip you, pin me beneath you, and there’s biting and scratching and you pressing inside of me and I love it, love you so much it hurts. But it’s all a dream. What I have is my hand, and an aching emptiness, and a few dozen yards that may as well be as many countries. Happy New Year, I suppose. Looks just like the last one._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 11:03 a.m. 

Fuckig hell, Q. I wish you would’ve shown up at my door. I wanted it. Wanted you so bad it was painful. But I wanted YOU, not the character you were playing. It wasn’t real, Q, as much as I wanted it to be. You were playing a part. You were confused, probably nervous, but you trusted me. As much as I wanted you, nothing could make me destroy that trust. Not that it wasn’t obscenely fucking hard to stay in my room, but you meant too much to me to risk fucking it all up. I wasn’t sure- I didn’t know how much you wanted more than just one night, wanted to be with me me for real. After so much time, I guess we were both afraid to mess things up. And then like the complete failure I am, I just went on with life as usual. I acted as if nothing ever happened, treated you the same as always. I figured if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up. You were always so talkative. But you didn’t bring it up. You just gave me this calculating look, seemed to decide something, and then you were back to being the consummate professional. You acted like nothing had ever happened either. I hoped things would just go back to normal, and on the surface it seemed like they did, but something changed. You weren’t quite as open. I didn’t linger quite as long in Q branch for a few weeks. There was a new distance between us. I thought it was because you were angry at me, and I wanted to fix it but I didn’t know how. It was probably mostly my fault. I couldn’t even look at you without remembering what your lips felt like against mine, what you tasted like. I had to use all of my willpower not to press you against a wall and kiss you again, and then I hated myself for the thought- for even considering it when it was clear from the new hardness in your eyes that you wouldn’t welcome it. I was so fucking stupid. I should’ve told you how I felt. I should’ve done lot of things. Not that apologizing does any good now. It’s far too late for that. 

James


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to Hedwig_Dordt for all of her editing and support on this fic!

My mother told me that she remembers the infamous birthday gift that wasn’t, if only because of the whispers of international tensions, and the fact that both Bond and Q looked far too innocent for their own goods. She had just met the man who was to become my father though, and she admits she was far too caught up in that relationship to pay attention to any others. 

_January 10th, 2015_

_You’re completely ridiculous, you know that, right? The Americans are bloody furious, which is always amusing to be honest, and the Chinese are calling foul play, so now they’re circling each other. I swear, if you cause World War Three over ~~steali~~ procuring my birthday present you’re going to get one hell of a time out! M knows it was you, but luckily he can’t prove it and I’m not of a mind to help him. I don’t even dare write down what you gave me it’s so...well. I love it, of course, and you know it. I couldn’t even summon up the feigned irritation you’re used to. I mean, your point about doing them a favor by demonstrating a serious flaw in the security system is valid. Careless of them, really. And you looked so pleased with yourself for having genuinely surprised me. I’m impressed, it takes a significant amount of effort to get under my radar. You looked more than pleased, in fact. You looked...uncharacteristically nervous. As if my reaction mattered more than usual. As if...well, to be honest you looked a bit like a suitor presenting a gift. It left me unguarded, made my stomach flutter in a way I thought I’d learned to control around you. I actually called you James out loud for the first time. It was the only thing I said, actually, and it came out in a far more telling tone than I intended. You must’ve been equally unguarded because that look of surprise is one I’ve rarely seen. In that second before you went all 00 again I could almost believe you truly cared about me. Wanted me the way I want you. Maybe- maybe you could. Maybe something changed. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially in this field. I’ve thought about this far too much. If we were to become an us, how would I distance myself and act logically when it comes to your missions? It’s difficult enough as it is, and as much as I try not to show favoritism I know I fail. I shouldn’t, but I take extra care when it comes to your missions. I take lead more often than I do with other agents. I personalize your gear. The others know it. Likely everyone knows it, but they’re too afraid to bring it up since I’m fucking fantastic at my job and I’m not lax with the rest of them so no one has any real cause to fault me. But if you were mine...ah James, how could I deal with the extra anxiety about losing you? No, maybe it’s better like this. Likely it is. Still, if you were to offer more, beautiful man, I don’t think I could say no. _

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_______________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 11:42 am

_I’m_ ridiculous? You’re the one who fell for someone like me, that’s pretty damn ridiculous. Also there’s your cats- they’ve taken over MI6, I’ve no idea how you have so much power there even when- fuck, Q, I can’t even write it sometimes, can’t even think it. Eve barely even had to push to get them adopted by your entire damn department. The point is they sneak out of Q branch and I’ve caught both of them as far up as M’s office while he pretends we wasn’t letting them lounge on his desk when I walk in. They follow me around, it’s like they remember me from when I stayed at your place. Like they think if they stick by me, eventually you’ll come back. And they keep tricking me into giving them treats. Stupid animals. 

That damn gift- I’ve never had to use all of my resources, all of my training, as much as I did while...procuring that thing for you. But it was worth it, just for the look on your face. I was just hoping you would forgive me, you would see how much you meant to me, that we could go back to the way things were before you got so closed off around me. I never expected- the way you said my name, that moment your eyes went soft and surprised and hopeful- I didn’t know until then, I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know how much you cared about me. That look gave me hope, Q. I started wondering if we could really be an us. I came around more again, flirted more, looked carefully for another sign of how you felt, but I didn’t see any. I started wondering if maybe I’d made it up because I wanted it so badly. At least you went back to acting the way you used to, so I figured at least I had my friend back. I still wanted more, but I thought I’d learned my lesson. I wasn’t going to push you anymore. It wasn’t worth it. Apparently I read you all wrong. Again. 

James


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to my friend and awesome beta reader Hedwig_Dordt for helping with this! 
> 
> Warning: there will be Spectre spoilers from here to the end, so if you haven't watched the movie and are avoiding them, wait to read the last few chapters. Thanks for reading!

My mother admitted to me that she couldn’t recall anything significant about the months preceding this letter. It was, as Q stated, quiet. Possibly too quiet, yes, but from her perspective as M’s right hand she was always plenty busy. She and Q continued their friendship, and she does admit she tried to set him up a few times even though it was a constant failure. Until she read these letters, she honestly didn’t realize it was because Q already had his heart set on someone else. 

_February 15th_

_I can’t help opening with a comment about the Ides of March, even though that’s a month away. Something is off about this mission. It’s more than my irritation at the length that’s kept you away practically since my last letter. It’s too- I can’t put my finger on it, but it feels orchestrated somehow. Like someone is pulling our strings and doing a distressingly good job of it. All of the usual suspects are too quiet as well. Not that I don’t appreciate the time to focus on some projects I’ve been working on, and I’m actually making headway on network security upgrades around this place. Also, you’re talkative when you’re bored and frustrated. I rather enjoy the random and mostly pointless texts, and your colorful use of language. Your check-ins are longer as well, as if you’re looking for excuses to keep me on the line. As if I need any. This morning you told me about the time you snuck out of boarding school to go drinking with the escapees from the girls’ school across town. I like hearing about when you were growing up, you speak of it so infrequently. Well, I have a coffee date with Eve. She’s trying to set me up again, I just know it. I wonder if you’d be jealous. See you soon, I hope._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 12:23 pm

You and your love of Shakespeare. I can appreciate it, who doesn’t love all the sexual innuendo, but you really adored it. When you read it to me though, I did too. I remember a few evenings when you read me some of his poetry, because I told you to do anything to keep me from going crazy from boredom halfway around the world. Your voice was made for it. I loved listening to you talk, so of course I wanted to keep you on the line as long as possible. It felt almost like a date, just talking about our lives. I could almost pretend that’s what it was. I knew you went on dates, of course, and of course I was jealous. But even when I suspected you might actually want me, I couldn’t help but think I wasn’t right for you. And it was too quiet, I can recognize that now. It’s probably our fault for not noticing, for being too caught up in each other to do our jobs correctly. I was right, I suppose, in the end. As much as I wanted it, if we were together we wouldn’t have been able to do our jobs as effectively. Or effectively at all, considering the fucking blind idiots we were those few months. Both of us should have seen what was coming, but we weren’t focused. I should’ve known I couldn’t have what I really wanted, not in this life. That’s why I settled for _her_ in the end. I wanted you, I loved you, but I wasn’t good for you. I put you in danger. And as long as I was around, I knew you wouldn’t be able to move on, to find someone truly worthy of you. It was the wrong decision, I know that now. I thought eventually you would fall for one of the guys Eve set you up with. That you would move on and be happy. I didn’t know, Q, I swear I didn’t. And of course I was jealous, but I think you just wanted to hear me say it. M wasn’t the only saucy minx. Gods, but I miss you. 

James 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to Hedwig_Dort for her fast editing work on this chapter!

My mother says that she rather agreed with a few of Q’s sentiments from the following letter. During the mission-that-wasn’t Bond was being especially himself. Specifically the most frustrating parts of himself, which included lack of trust, lack of communication, and generally being so focused on what he wanted done that he didn’t seem to care who he used in the process, or how. She says she fell for his typical charm just like Q did though, and before she knew it she was doing things that could easily cost her job and spying on her own agency. The fact that he was right about the conspiracy, he generally was about such things, didn’t make the feeling of being taken advantage of much easier to stomach. Still, before she knew it she was running around helping save the world in secret right along with Q and M. All of them following the lead of a 00 who technically no longer held the title. They won in the end. You will remember the events by the final collapse of the old MI6 building and the ensuing international security talks. She says she wasn’t particularly surprised he left with Madeline, the woman he met on the mission, though she wasn’t convinced it would last. After all, he’d claimed he was quitting before. She didn’t quite realize the toll it took on Q, or, the danger Q was in after what he did to help take down Spectre’s security. She didn’t know that when James left, he decided he didn’t have a reason to stay either. 

 

_April 28th, 2015_

_Do you know where I’m writing this from? Another fucking plane! One would think after all the times I’ve been forced to take one since you turned my life upside down, I would have learned to tolerate it, but no. I still hate flying. And yet. That’s basically my catch phrase when it comes to you. I shouldn’t do this, and yet- every damn time, James. Because I have faith in you. Because I love you. But you- I can’t help it James, I feel like you take me for granted. Like you take advantage of me, and my feelings for you. I don’t think you intend it that way, but it feels manipulative- as if you don’t care about what happens to me as long as you get what you need. Or maybe I’m just blind, maybe I’ve become simply another one of your targets. I hate feeling this way, but I can’t help it. One of your pleading looks, and I went directly against orders and let you slip away despite the smart blood tracking. I was fairly certain you would steal 009’s car, but I thought you would at least ask for my help. But no, you had to go being all you and the damn thing wasn’t even ready. Maybe if the ammunition was actually loaded, you wouldn’t have landed a ridiculous amount of money in the river, you bloody frustrating, pig-headed man!_

_And this whole Spectre fisco- I could’ve helped earlier if you would’ve just told me exactly what you were up to. Now, I’m just trying to stay one step ahead of a world wide Big Brother program on yet another unsanctioned mission, and I’m going to have to do things you can’t possibly understand, because you don’t understand how dangerous they are. Not to the world, but to me. I’m not sure if I’ll have time to cover my tracks, to hide what I’m up to, what I’m capable of, and some very bad people are going to notice. People like me, James, not people like you- people you can’t just go kill, because they can’t be found. People you can’t protect me from. Sometimes pulling a trigger won’t work. Regardless, whatever it means for me I’ll still do whatever I can. For you. For Queen and Country as well, but who am I really fooling? Mostly for you. And your new future lover, apparently. Sure she seemed fairly upset with you, but I’m sure there was a hidden attraction there. Of course you’ll get into some sort of trouble, and you’ll save her, and she’ll fall into your arms (there is a definite pattern here), and you’ll fall into some version of in love with her, and maybe this is the one you’ll walk off into the sunset with. I always wonder if this is the one, every time. But there’s something different about her, I could tell even from our brief meeting. Right. It’s pointless to obsess about the inevitable. In the end, we’re walking off into completely different sunsets. Though depending on how this turns out, James, I’m not sure I’ll live long enough to avoid dying alone. Christ, that was depressing. Fewer gin and tonics next time, perhaps. Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll never manage a flight on less than three. Shut up, you have no room to criticize about my alcohol consumption. Most of which, by the way, is entirely your fault._

_So here I go, risking everything for you again. Because the thing about loving someone is, you can do it even if you aren’t loved back. Even if I am just another tool to you, I’ll do what you need. I suppose I’m not being used if I’m freely choosing to help you. I just wish- well, it's unfair of me when I’m not doing this either, but I wish you would tell me what you really want from me. I wish I knew where I stood. I wish._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

_________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 1:16 pm

I didn’t mean it like that, Q. More than anything I wish I could tell you that. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t care about you, like I was just using you for what you could do for me. I thought- okay, I wasn’t thinking, obviously. I was focused on my mission- I go to this single minded place sometimes and- well, you know. It’s some sort of deformity that makes me a perfect agent and a shit human being. I was just trying to keep things the way they used to be- when I could tease you about the sad lack of exploding pens and you would make me one. When I could wink and put a finger to my lips and you would just roll your eyes and let me steal the proverbial cookie from the jar. Of course I was going to take the car, and I knew you knew it, but maybe I could’ve included you a bit more. I could’ve included you a bit more in everything, Q, but I wanted to be sure what I was dealing with first. I wanted to keep you out of it if I could, but I couldn’t. I needed you. Sure I needed what you could do, but I needed _you_. I needed you working with me, because I knew you would be able to fix everything, like you always do. I’m sorry you had to fly, and I’m sorry I put you in danger, and I’m fucking sorry I didn’t realize how much. At all. Q, if I’d known you were putting a target on your back from every pissed off cyber terrorist who was working on that damn program- you’re right, I didn’t know, but you didn’t fucking tell me either. The amount of danger I _knew_ about had me deciding I needed to walk away, to stop dragging you into things like this, to leave you alone so you could get on with a real life. I wanted you, I loved you, and I hate that you doubted that I even cared in the end. What I wanted from you and what I could have were two very different things. I liked Madeline, I thought I could love her. We were so similar in the ways that counted, at least at the time. She was cold when she had to be, she could kill when she had to, danger energized her rather than paralyzing her. She knew who I was, and it didn’t phase her. We made sense. What I _wanted_ was for it to be your hand I was holding as I walked away from it all, but that would’ve been unfair to ask of you. You were just starting your career. You had your mortgage and two cats. I didn’t think you would _want_ to run away with a damaged old agent. So I walked away, and I left you. Like the complete imbecile I am. But how could I know, Q? How could I know you would take it upon yourself to hunt down the other members of Spectre? Oh sure you passed on information for the newly reinstated 00 agents, but you did so much on your own, put yourself at even more risk, and you knew exactly what you were doing. I thought suicide by mission was more my thing. I had no idea, Q, I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know what my leaving would do to you. I didn’t fucking know, and now I have another reason to hate myself. 

James


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to Hedwig_Dortd for her editing work on this fic, and all of her encouragement to finish it!

_May 5th, 2015_

_So you’re really gone then. When you came back to my office, just showed up out of the blue like you used to do, for a moment I thought- well, but of course not. Of course you the thing you wanted was your old Aston Martin, and not me. So that’s it. Okay. You’ve moved on, you’re going to go live a real life. Good for you. That’s good. You deserve it, and I’m happy for you. I’m utterly heartbroken, you understand, but I’m happy for you. So. Time to make sure you can have that life, that you’re safe. It’s too late for me, now, but I’m going to take down as many of those bastards as I can before the end._

_To the moon and back,_

_Q_

________________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 1:27 pm

Damn it, Q. Just- god fucking damn it. The thing I wanted was you, but I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I was keeping you safe, not sentencing you to death. I just wanted to see you one last time, to say goodbye. I could’ve taken the car anytime, but I wanted you to be there. So I shook your hand one last time, and ran away before I could do something stupid like pull you in and ask you to get in the car with me instead. How could I know you would take it upon yourself to hunt down the other members of Spectre? Oh sure you passed on information for the newly reinstated 00 agents, but you did so much on your own, put yourself at even more risk, and you knew exactly what you were doing. I thought suicide by mission was more my thing. I had no idea, Q, I swear I didn’t. I didn’t know what my leaving would do to you. I didn’t fucking know, and now I have another reason to hate myself. One more letter to go, and then it’s time to disappear again. This time for good. Don’t worry, I won’t kill myself. Even from the grave, you’d never forgive me for that. Love you, Q, always. 

 

James


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't begin to express how thankful I am to my friend and beta reader Hedwig_Dordt for all of the work she put into helping make this story better. She is the best ever!! 
> 
> Also, thank you dear reader for following this story for so long. Even though it isn't my usual fluff, I enjoyed writing it. These boys do lend themselves rather easily to all of the misunderstandings and pining in the world. I still love them, even if I made them suffer this time : )

_June 13th, 2015_

_I’ve written so many of these letters over the years that it feels odd to know this is the last one. I’m going to leave them for Eve, she’ll know when it’s best to give them to you. I’m afraid if I left them for you now you’d just toss them into the fire in a fit of anger or something, and there aren’t any copies. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted you reading them at first, but now I’d like you to. I want you to know what you meant to me, so you understand why to me you were worth dying for. I still love you, despite the fact that you chose someone else over me in the end. Despite the fact that you’re a right ass more than half the time, and you spent years destroying my things and making a general nuisance of yourself around Q branch. Despite the fact that you never loved me the way I loved you, or if you did you never showed it. Well, and neither did I. Possibly we were both fools. Possibly we could’ve been happy together, and just as likely ended up driving each other crazy and hating each other in the end. I suppose part of me is sad I’ll never know, but another part of me is just glad we had what we did. We were friends, you and I. Real friends. I hope we still are, even though I’ve not heard from you since you left. I know where you are, and that you’re fine, as the smart blood is still working. Not for long, I’m going to destroy any possible way for anyone to find you once I’m gone. I suppose you’ll want to know how I’m certain death is coming for me. Well, it seems I’ve finally made enough of a dent in Spectre’s remaining members that the rest are terrified or pissed enough that I’ve earned a rather impressive bounty. It’s flattering, in a way. As I mentioned in a previous letter, what I had to do in order to stop the Big Brother program was effective, but messy. It was obvious who did it to anyone with any real hacking abilities. So that didn’t please a good number of people, and then I went on systematically picking off members- you’re not the only trigger finger out there you know- and well, here I am. I’m not going to live my life in hiding, James. You may be a bit confused by the tone of this letter, and I do admit it seems a bit light hearted for the content, but really I’m just pleased to have done some good in this world. Maybe there is another man out there for me, maybe I could be happy with someone else, but in a dark way I’m glad I never have to find out. I was happy enough having as much with you as I did. It was good, James, wasn’t it? We made a real difference. And we were happy. I have so many good memories. The time we “borrowed” Tanner’s office to test out a new laser array and he came back early, and we had to hide in the tunnels to escape M’s wrath while the entire building evacuated? You pretending not to cuddle both my cats while you drowsed on my sofa. That time we were both so bored we invented our own version of morse code while half a world apart. The fact that it still pisses Eve of she can’t crack it. (Sorry darling, still not telling). The way your eyes would crinkle at the corners when you really smiled. Your rare real laugh, like the one time we were wiping away tears while watching Die Hard with the sound muted and making up our own lines. Your American accent is atrocious, James. So many good moments. They were worth it, never doubt it. I need you to know that I’m not upset at you for anything. I’m glad you’re off living a real life, and you’re happy. I do need you to do one thing for me though. I need you to live your life. Whatever you do, just- make it a good one, okay? For me. Not that you owe me anything, but still. Do that one thing for me. Well, that’s it then._

_I love you to the moon and back, James._

_Q_

_______________________________________________________________________________

To: damnitqthisaddressissafeenough@gmail.com On June 15 2016, 2:04 pm

I didn’t want to do this, but now I don’t want to stop. It feels so final, Q. This last email, your last letter...I don’t want there to be nothing left. Nothing left to reply to, nothing left to say. I know it’s crazy, but I feel like you’re listening somehow. Like you can read this. Maybe I’ve finally cracked. Any of the therapists at MI6 would tell you it’s well past time for a psychotic break. I’d almost welcome it, if being crazy would mean I’d get to talk to you again. I’d even take a figment of my imagination, at this point. I’m glad you weren’t angry with me. That you looked back on our time and were happy. I just- I know I could’ve made you so much happier. I left Madeline after only a month or so, you know. I thought she could be the thing I wanted, but it just didn’t work out. She’s fine, which would surprise some people. She went and started her own practice somewhere less secluded than before, but she wanted it to be just as secret so I promised I wouldn’t say where. I doubt anyone was surprised about the actual break up. They were probably taking bets back at MI6 about how long I’d last before I was back. Not that I blame them. Well, I’ve spent enough time focusing on how badly I fucked up. How sorry I am. It’s pointless to say I didn’t deserve your loyalty, or your love. That you shouldn’t have done it. All there is left to say is thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for making me smile, for making me laugh, for taking care of me. For being the best fucking part of my life as long as I knew you. I don’t know where I’ll go, now. Maybe I’ll go somewhere no one will suspect, like Boise, and open a rescue home for cats. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The idea of me covered in clawing balls of fluff for the next thirty years or so? Of course you would, you sadistic little shit. I miss the hell out of you. I love you. And that’s all. 

To Venus and back, which is farther, so I win. 

James


	20. Chapter 20

**Afterword**

 

 

That is the last set of letters. A few days after James’ last reply, he was gone. My mother says it didn’t surprise anyone, least of all herself. He only stayed gone for another month or so, then came back without Madeline and announced he was done with retirement. But after Q was gone, Bond’s heart wasn’t in the job. He was even more reckless than usual, but he continued returning from missions he had no right coming back from. It was mostly his own doing, she reported, as things were comparatively quiet but he insisted on taking ridiculous risks. He was, after all, too full of life for any direct form of suicide. Her heart hurt for him. She said she’d wondered a few times over the years, but she hadn’t realized how he truly felt until she saw how he reacted to the Quartermaster’s death. He’d never been a man who took well to being comforted, and this was no exception. Even now she has no idea where Bond is, all she can say is she hopes he found happiness. Maybe even peace. He’d saved the world enough times to earn it, after all. As for myself I can’t help but hope- even though my mother assures me it’s impossible- that Q died in her arms, a victim of poison while they were out at a cafe, a thing she has rarely spoken of, I still hope that he found Q. I’m sure, after reading these letters, that you do as well. The reality is that James Bond is likely out there alive and alone, that the knowledge of what he lost is yet another thing he has to bear until he dies. The universe is anything but fair, after all. At the very least, I hope that there really is a heaven, and an eternity out there for them to spend together. I hope.

Lillian Moneypenny


	21. Chapter 21

“As I predicted, she turned it into sappy bullshit,” James complains, tossing the book into the sand and perilously close to the rising ocean tide. 

“I love it,” Q declares, shifting back into a more comfy lounge against James’ chest and angling back to kiss his jawline. 

“You love ‘The Notebook,’” James points out in an unimpressed tone. “And awful American Hallmark movies.” 

“So do you. I know all of your tells, love,” Q counters, laughing when James makes a horrified noise and smacks him on the thigh. 

“You don’t get to win everything,” James growls, completely failing not to crack a smile. 

“You just keep thinking that,” Q replies, grabbing one of James’ hands and sucking the pointer finger in teasingly. 

“Hmmm,” is all James manages, pulling Q closer with his free arm. He knows a losing battle when he sees one. 

“It feels real again, doesn’t it? I mean, after twenty odd years it’s still hard to consider how wrong we both were,” Q muses, adjusting the blanket warming them against the cooling September air and enjoying the beginnings of a sunset over the waves. 

“I’m just glad you came back for me. Took you long enough though,” James reiterates, with no real heat. It’s an old argument, and somehow almost comforting after so many years. 

“Again, if you’d done something sufficiently dramatic like throw yourself on my coffin and declare your undying love for me maybe I could’ve arranged something,” Q snarks. “But no, you had to go run off with _that woman_ into the sunset of a doomed romance.” 

“You’re the dramatic one darling, not me,” James grins. “Besides, in the end it’s hardly her fault she wasn’t you. I still think you could’ve arranged some sort of ‘Surprise! Not dead!’ meeting. You could’ve turned up at one of my safe houses with flowers. It would've been terribly romantic and right up your alley.” 

“You’ve been watching too much _Sherlock_ again,” Q teases, wriggling around on the oversized lounge chair to face James. 

“ _I’ve_ been watching too much Sherlock? Which one of us faked his own death and went tearing around the globe chasing down the remnants of a shadow organization?”

Q rolls his eyes, no longer rising to the bait after so many years. “Once you calmed down you found it terribly romantic. And really, I’d think that for a spy, my keeping and eye on you and checking up on your activity when you actually refused a mission would be considered _extremely_ romantic. Even if it did involve hacking into your personal email accounts and a few other things, to make sure you weren’t about to do something even more stupid than usual.” 

“Creeper,” James accuses fondly.

“Intelligence specialist,” Q counters. “And the new identity and one way ticket to Vancouver were _completely_ romantic.” 

“Vancouver,” James huffs. “It was a test to see if I really loved you, wasn’t it?” 

“No one suspects Canada!” Q defends. “Besides, we didn’t see the outside of the hotel suite for a week. What did it matter?” 

“It doesn’t, but you’re cute when you’re worked up.” James kisses the little wrinkle between Q’s brows. “I suppose the book is rather...sweet,” he admits, as if the word pains him. “Tragic though. And strangely popular, who would've thought we’d make the best seller list? They’re bound to make a movie. I suppose we’ll be played by awful Hollywood upstarts with terrible accents.” 

“I’m sure Lillian has more integrity than selling the rights to the Americans,” Q grins. “Though it might be worth it just for the look on your face. You’re still glad you let her publish it, then?” 

“It’ll provide for her, that’s what matters.” James pauses thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s safe to tell Eve yet? I know this will draw attention to us again, but there’s nothing left of Spectre, we’ve ensured that. It would make her happy. Furious with us, but happy.”

“We should send her a copy with my comments in the margins. How awful all of those dates she set me up on turned out to be, the fact that I _knew_ she pulled that shaving trick in Macau, things like that.” Q’s smile is rather devilishly delighted. 

“You’re devious. I love it,” James approves, pulling Q in for a lazy kiss. 

“You love _me_ ,” Q replies, nipping at James’ lower lip and rolling his hips suggestively. 

“I do. To Saturn and back, which is even farther than the moon.”

“Well I meant to one of _Pluto’s_ moons and back, so I still win,” Q laughs. It’s a silly game, but he doesn’t care; he still loves it. 

“You always do,” James agrees, placing a kiss into Q’s unruly hair. He swings his legs down and arranges it so he can lift Q into his arms and carry him towards the house, just to prove he still can even after all of these years.

The book lies forgotten in the sand to be carried out to sea, but neither of them are bothered. They can get another copy. After all, they have all the time in the world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in the end I couldn't resist some of my usual fluff! But it was so painful, and they suffered for enough years. I adore them too much to make them miserable in the end : ) 
> 
> Again, so many thanks to my beta reader Hedwig_Dordt, she deserves lots of love as well. And to you lovely reader, thank you for following this heart-wrenching story to the end!


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